Eggshells
by SSAEmilyHotchner
Summary: Oneshot. Emily is in one of her moods again and by default, it is Hotch that falls victim to her accusations. He notices that it seems their arguing won't ever stop; though he supposes he isn't completely innocent himself. It's the end of an exhausting week, and it's only natural that he is on edge. After all, every couple argues. But this? This is insanity. Written for stewhearts.


**Author's Note: I feel really bad because I've been meaning to write this oneshot for a long time now, and just never was able to do it because I was so busy. Now that school has started up again, it's hard to find time to write, but writing is a sanctuary for me, so you can be assured I won't ever stop. ****Anyway, my muse took this story in a direction completely opposite to the one that I initially intended...but either way, I hope you enjoy it, stewhearts! Hopefully this comes somewhat close to what you wanted in the first place. :)**

**Thank you to everyone reading! Your support means the world to me.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or any of its characters.**

* * *

Emily was in one of her moods again.

Unbidden, a shiver ran down Hotch's spine. Briefly, he wondered if she was PMSing…but, of course, it wasn't as if he was about to _ask_ her. He wasn't stupid, and he certainly valued his life.

No amount of precaution could exempt him from the arguing, however. He was well aware they were – or at least, that he was – walking on eggshells, though for what reason, he was truly confused. He supposed he wasn't completely innocent; it was the end of a long, exhausting week, and it was only natural that he would be on edge. Snappy retorts were made, eye rolls were perfected. Hotch had thought a long, hot shower would make everything better; would give them enough time to…well, to cool down.

Alas, that wasn't the case.

Hotch had just barely gotten out of the shower. He was toweling himself dry and slipping into new clothes when he realized Emily was perched atop the foot of their bed, watching him with unreadable eyes. Even the tone of her voice was flat.

"When were you going to tell me?"

Their gazes met, and Hotch frowned. The arguing was beginning again, he noticed. "Tell you what, Em?"

He was surprised when Emily scoffed in response. There was something about her demeanor that was making him nervous. She looked…distrustful. "Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. Just because I'm on a break from the BAU doesn't mean I'm not a profiler anymore."

Hotch's eyes narrowed, his forehead creasing concernedly. "I never said it did," he said warily, looking at her intently. "Emily…"

"Were you _ever_ going to tell me?" she asked this time. Without waiting for his answer, she moved to their large cherry wood dresser and began sifting through its contents, looking for one scrap of paper in particular.

Hotch slowly closed the distance between them. "Emily…I'm being absolutely serious right now. I have _no_ idea what you're talking about. Please explain."

Finally, she pressed the coveted slip of paper into his hand. "This," she deadpanned. "This, and the hushed phone calls, on your cell phone no less, not even on our house phone – and the perfume all over your clothes. Who is she, Aaron?" She swallowed thickly as she watched him unfold the piece of paper and read the phone number that had been scrawled there, recognition flashing in his eyes.

Oh.

_Oh._

"It's not what you're thinking, Emily," he said slowly, hoping beyond hope he didn't sound as tense as he felt. "Really."

"Really?" Her voice was quieter now. Meanwhile, Hotch was silent. "So…where do you go every Thursday night?" She hated that she sounded clingy, desperate…but she was scared that she had done something wrong. Scared that her worst fear was coming true.

Hotch's eyes widened imperceptibly. "I…can't tell you," he said eventually, wincing at how awfully he knew this would come across. "It's a secret."

Emily didn't know whether to laugh out loud or be insulted. "Do you really think I'm that stupid?" she found herself blurting.

Hotch snapped. "Do you really trust me this little?"

"A 'secret' –"

"– I cannot believe you, Emily. It's nice to know you have no faith in me whatsoever."

Emily couldn't help it; the bitter retort rolled off her tongue without a thought. "Last time I checked, _I _wasn't the one being unfaithful." It's a dirty accusation and a mean one, but they have been like this all day and the boiling point has finally and unfortunately been reached.

Hotch stared at her – his partner, his wife – in disbelief for a long, weighty moment. "Are you _actually_ accusing me of having an affair?" He spat the question out like it was poison on his tongue. This time, it was she who chose to refrain from speaking; but the sad yet spiteful look in her eyes gave him all the answer he needed. As did the quiver of her bottom lip. He sighed, shaking his head incredulously. "You don't even know what you're talking about."

"So explain it to me."

_And ruin the surprise? _He thought about it for a long while. "I _can't_, Em_._" Somehow, they made their way into the less stifling main room. "God, I was in a perfectly good mood," he whispered to himself.

That made Emily's blood boil. "And what, I ruined it for you? That's a good one, Aaron. You in a good mood…I didn't think that was possible, no, not lately."

"Go ahead, keep criticizing me," Hotch said angrily, his voice gradually raising in volume. "What other insults do you have under your belt?"

She was fuming now, her face flushed and eyes burning. "I think you need to go take a walk," Emily said icily.

"You know, for once, I think you're right. I think I'll go for a _drive_." He pulled their front door open.

"That's right," Emily's voice caught, "go ahead and go to your whore of a girlfriend, Aaron. You have fun."

"Damn it, Emily –"

_"Get out of my fucking house."_

Immediately, Hotch realized things had gone too far. He should have told her; it would have ruined the surprise, but this…this was too much.

But still.

Before Emily could even blink, she was pressed up against their now closed door being kissed senseless. Hotch had thrown all cares away and it was glorious to experience. Emily could feel her lips being bruised, so hard were his kisses. She couldn't think; she couldn't breathe.

"What are you –"

"Kiss me back," he growled viciously, nipping on her ear. _"Kiss me back."_

Emily needed no more encouragement. She admittedly did not know what was happening at the moment, or what had happened previously. But how was she supposed to function _at all_ when she had the world's most incredible male specimen performing such sweet torture on her body? The thought made her eyes sting once more. If her worst fear was indeed coming true…where would they go next? How would they proceed?

She wasn't given long to ponder possible answers or solutions, for Hotch was soon growling harsh words into her ear. "You want to know where I've been going?" he panted. "You want me to spoil the surprise I've been working so hard to keep under wraps? Fine. Dancing lessons," he spat. "For our one year anniversary in two weeks. You think I would just throw all that away?" He palmed and squeezed the skin of her hips. "Huh?"

Emily fell into stunned silence, her lips parted in shock – and relief. "D-dancing lessons?" she echoed mutedly. The look in her eyes instantly turned sad and regretful. "You've been going to dancing lessons," she breathed.

"You can even call the number on that slip of paper." His gaze was scorching hot as he pulled her flush against his hard body. "It's a dancing studio, run by a husband and wife, Gene and Julie."

But Emily wasn't listening. This time, her eyes burned for a different reason entirely. "You were taking dancing lessons…for me," she whispered.

"Yes." Hotch sucked on her neck unforgivingly, causing Emily's eyes to roll back in her head. "Yes, I was."

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry." The words came in an impassioned rush. "I feel terrible now. I don't know what came over me – it's the hormones, I think. Or –" His earlier statements echoed in her mind: _It's not what you're thinking, Emily. Do you really trust me this little? It's nice to know you have no faith in me whatsoever. _Her beautiful face contorted with ugly guilt. "Oh, God, I'm sorry. Aaron…"

"That's okay," he brushed away with a gruff and dangerous husk. They would make sure to talk later; they needed to. But now… "I know of a good enough way to punish you."

"You promise?" she rasped needily.

"Absolutely." And then, he was carrying her off to bed, and nothing else mattered.

~.~.~

For as long as he could remember, Emily had been a screamer…and tonight was no exception. Her guttural, keening scream was still echoing in their large bedroom when Hotch came apart as well, holding her body so impossibly close to his as he delivered those last, painfully perfect thrusts.

"I'm sorry," Emily whispered once more, her chest heaving as they fell back to earth together, a shivering mass of sweaty limbs and hot kisses. She just had to speak; to leave things unsaid and let the bedroom be cloaked in silence was more than she could bear at the moment. "I really am sorry. I trust you more than you'll ever know. I just…never thought I'd be one to have such intense mood swings, but look at me now –"

He interrupted her with a finger to her lips and a shaking of his head. "Today's just been a weird day," he murmured. "I understand."

"Do you?" she asked almost sheepishly. Even in the dark of night, she was able to meet her husband's gaze. "Aaron…I know you would never do something like that. I really do. The fact that I accused you of…of…" Her voice trailed away. "I'd say sorry again, but I've said it a hundred times already." She buried her face into the crook of his neck as she felt him run his fingers through her already mussed hair and massage her scalp.

Then, Emily smiled. "Dancing?" she mused aloud. She blushed just thinking about it, and was instantly soothed by Hotch's hushed chuckling.

"Yeah, I thought we could go somewhere special, just the two of us." There was a pregnant pause as he slid down her body. "And this one, too, of course."

Emily's eyes fell shut as he kissed her newly rounded belly reverently. "That sounds perfect," she admitted. A shuddering sigh slipped past her lips. "Actually, I can only think of one thing that would top that."

"Oh yeah?" Hotch kissed the inside of her thigh now. He knew she felt guiltier than ever, but he was determined to wipe that guilt away. It wasn't necessary, not anymore. "What's that?"

Hot and lustful still, Emily pulled him up until he was able to meet her lips in a searing kiss...and again, she smiled. "Round two."

* * *

**Author's Note: Like it? Love it? Please leave me a review, if you have the chance! I really am anxious to know what you think. I know, it was short, and I apologize for that. The original prompts were 'Hotch and Emily fight', 'reconciliation with rage sex', and 'a cute and fluffy ending'. Because FFN has been cracking down on M-rated stories lately, I had to take some artistic license with the second prompt...but I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless. Thank you so much for your continued support!**

* * *

_**Nominations are open for the 2012 Annual Profiler's Choice Awards!**_

**Go to the link below for more details (remove all spaces). You need an account on FFN to nominate, but it's really easy to set one up!**

**www. fan fiction.**

**net/topic/74868/69379386/1**

**Make sure to read EVERYTHING on the page before nominating! ALL stories (complete or in-progress) updated between Sep. 1st, 2011, and Aug. 31st, 2012, are eligible. Just check the date of a story's latest update and, if it's in that range, it's eligible! :) Thanks in advance!**


End file.
